


Memories

by CrazyChicken



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Euro 2012, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyChicken/pseuds/CrazyChicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David promised to be there, two years ago. And the Spaniard doesn't break a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> In 2010, during the World Cup, I worked on my first football slash fic and what came out was a terrible lovestory between these two guys. I never published that, but this is sort of a short sequel. Basically, they were fuck buddies who were way too romantic to only have sex.

David Villa had not forgotten his promise. He and Fernando would meet again at the 2012 Eurocup. Little had he known, those two years before, that his broken leg would keep him from playing.

However, he was able to walk, take the train to Poland and meet his friend at the hotel, so that was what he did. The best part of it, he believed, was that Fernando knew absolutely nothing about his plan. He did inform Xavi, who sent him all the details about when they were where.

David had made himself comfortable on a couch in the lobby of the hotel when he saw the whole team coming in. Fernando was one of the last who entered and David blamed it on all the attention from female fans. Silly, female fans.

“Nando!” he screamed at his friend, who was walking through the doors.

Fernando looked up in surprise when he recognised the familiar voice, using the familiar pet name.

“David, what – oh, God, you are here! How are you?”

As the blonde greeted his friend with a hug, both breathed in the smell of each other’s body, remembering the old times and longing back to them when they realised how much times had changed.

“You use a different shampoo,” David remarked – it wasn’t a question – without answering Fernando’s question. That was small talk and he wasn’t one for unnecessary small talk.

“Probably.”

For a few moments they looked at each other, recalling every single memory. The naked showering, the bets, holding hands in the bus, the stolen glances, the cosy nights. The two lonely years that had passed were nothings in compare to the beauty of the moments they had shared. A waste of oxygen.

“Can you run?” Fernando whispered in Villa’s ear, holding the man’s body close to his own chest, with his fingers dug into his biceps. The air seemed to vibrate between them as he talked.

“Sort of.”

“The first one to get to my bed will be rewarded with this year’s first blowjob.”

 

It took them a few minutes to catch their breath. Their sweat covered bodies pressed together, they breathed heavily into each other’s necks. Fernando still had one knee between David’s thighs, leaning his bare torso onto Fernando’s. Their chests rose and fell at a fast pace, but totally out of rhythm. They tried to touch every single inch of the other’s skin and ended up nearly incapable of catching their breath.

“That... that was – good,” David panted by the time he was able to speak..

“Awesome,” was all Fernando could say between quick breaths. He lay in an uncomfortable position and wanted to roll over onto his teammate, but he couldn’t find the strength to. “Like... like Africa,” he added eventually.

“Do you – remember?” David asked, not surprised. The conversation went slow, but that was alright. They had the time now.

“Every – single – time,” Fernando replied. “Do you?”

“Mostly,” David answered when his panting changed back to normal breathing, playing with his lover’s hands and getting lost in thought. “But sometimes they started to fade. Sometimes I can’t remember specific parts of it. Sometimes I wish I could go back, rewind the time. You know? Football is so easy. When I want to watch a match again, I look it up on the internet or I call Pep and he has the tape. When I want to know who scored in which minute, I look up the statistics. But I can’t do that with you. I can never rewind to the best moments of my life when you’re in England and I’m missing you so much I can barely breathe. Do you know what it’s like when you scream, _need_ to scream so loud until all air is pressed out of your lungs and you almost faint? And in that short moment, when things start to fade to black and I can’t breathe and barely think straight – even _that_ reminds of you and of how we felt back then. There is no file in the world that lists who bottomed and who topped, how many orgasms you blessed me with or what our average duration was. And worse, sometimes I can’t recall what you told me afterwards. I can see the bright look in your eyes, sometimes blurry, but I forgot your exact words and that kills me. I can’t relive moments like this, just feeling the warmth of your body and lips, enjoying every second – because every second is flawless and every second can be the last. The past is really the past. All we have is memories.” He realised part of his story made no sense and he also realised that he had left out at least fifty thing he once planned to tell him, but from the wet glow in Fernando’s eyes, he could see the younger guy understood.

Fernando lifted his head and leaned his chin on his hands, his elbows digging into the mattress, to look his friend in the eyes. He pulled away some locks of hair from David’s sticky forehead, pressed a kiss on his cheek and tasted the salt of either sweat or tears.

“You know why that is?” he said with a comforting smile. “All we _need_ is memories.”


End file.
